Moderately Cute Granddaughter
by Problem Child1
Summary: Finn reflects on his first American school. Oneshot


Disclaimer: Amy and Daniel Palladino, along with the rest of the WB, own Gilmore Girls. I'm just borrowing the characters.

A/N: My first 1st person POV! Go me! Anyway, this is an extremely short one-shot, based on Finn's thoughts. I'm just getting into writing again, so, yeah, bare with me. I know a lot of you are looking for updates on some of my more popular stories, and they're coming, I promise. They may not be coming as quickly as I may like, but they're still on their way. As for now, hopefully this shall tide you over.

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I did some time at Chilton before being kicked out and meeting Logan at Andover. This was when I'd been kicked out of my house in Australia and shipped off to live with my mum's sister and her husband and son, who lived down the street from the infamous Emily Gilmore. That woman had some tantrums that had to be heard to be believed. Hot daughter, however. My Aunt Sophia told me that she'd gotten knocked up at sixteen. What a lucky bastard that guy must've been.

Needless to say, I didn't see the Hot Mother too often. She and Shrieking Grandmother got into a lot of arguments. I did see the Moderately Cute Granddaughter everyday, as she went to Chilton with me. Sometimes I could hear my cousin moaning her name as he whacked it in the morning. Fuckin' pervert. Didn't he know it was common sense to keep it down as you jacked off?

My Aunt Sophia seemed to ignore this, even if she did hear it (which I hoped not). I liked my Aunt, so I wasn't too bitter about being kicked off the whole continent of Australia and forced to reside at her house. Her husband was a right bastard, though. Some suit, vice president of the DuGrey Corporation until his father kicked it. So he had a stick up his arse about that little arrangement.

It translated to his horny son as well. That dipshit taunted Moderately Cute Granddaughter as soon as she started, which was a few weeks after I did. It was a juvenile way to get her on her back, and frankly, I was embarrassed to be related to him. I was a year older than him, and I was more mature when I was five. At least I had a cooler car, a new Mercedes as opposed to his year old BMW, until he crashed that and got a Porsche. Whacker. I worked for my car, what the fuck did he do?

Moderately Cute Granddaughter (I couldn't remember her real name after being kicked out of Chilton near the end of the year, over a very inventive prank: setting off a dozen Piccolo Petes' in the mathematics department) was a relatively smart shelia. She and her Hot Mother both had a biting wit that never seemed to make me stop laughing. I'd met the Hot Mother during a boring Chilton bake sale. Actually, "tried to pick up on" could be an acceptable substitute for "met." She'd laughed and flirted with me a couple of minutes before sadly informing me that while I was charming, I was a bit too young for her. A few months later I learned that she was going out with one Max Medina. I guess she liked her men smarmy and greasy.

That little incident started a series of sordid hook ups with the marvelous Miss Louise Grant. That girl…. I'd get a hard on just thinking of her. It started with making out between periods, and within a month turned into quickies in the parking lot whenever we could get out of class. I missed a lot of school because of that girl, but God help me, I loved every moment of it. She was always horny, always ready, and always on top. That was my favorite kind of sex, when all I had to do was sit (or lie) there, look pretty, and provide a penis. She was one of a kind. I miss her sometimes. But I wanted out of Chilton.

Chilton was my first American school. They were easier, as I had a 4.0 GPA – my first ever – which helped me get into Yale. Honestly, I didn't do a damn thing in school and I still passed. But my God, they had a lot of rules. Not as many as some of the European schools, but still a lot. Easier shelias, though. A few words, remembering to lay on the accent thick, and I could get them to rob a fucking bank. That's how I was suspended the first time. No, not for robbing a bank. You get to second base during Chem one time, and suddenly you're not allowed to come back for a few days. It was lunacy, but I wasn't complaining. The only sad thing was that I'd gotten caught. I just had to pick the one that couldn't keep quiet. If only my fingers weren't so bloody amazing.

That was the class I had with my cousin and Moderately Cute Granddaughter. The only thing I loved about that class was the passion in which Moderately Cute Granddaughter hated my cousin. Every time he so much as breathed in her direction, she'd send him the meanest "Fuck off" glare (though I doubt those were the words in her mind) I'd ever seen a girl give and make a cool, sarcastic remark, making me choke with laughter. If she had bigger boobs, I might have gone after her myself.

Sadly, Moderately Cute Granddaughter had a boyfriend. I saw him only once, at the Winter Dance, and that was enough for me. He couldn't even dress in a proper tux. My dumb cousin almost started a fight with the even dumber boyfriend. I almost wish they'd have fought, cause maybe Dumber Boyfriend would have broken my cousin's jaw, and I wouldn't've had to listen to him bitch and pine for Moderately Cute Granddaughter for a whole bloody month.

I myself took the very classy, very hot Stephanie Walz. Her mother was a model from Denmark, and her father was a Norwegian Ambassador. She was pure Scandinavian, pure sophistication, and had a very advanced taste. The vodka we drank had to be Russian distilled. The condoms we used we hers, imported from France. The dress that ended up crumpled on my bedroom floor was straight off the runway in Milan.

Stephanie Walz was the sexiest senior at Chilton Prep that year, and was every high school boys' (and reportedly, some of the faculty's) wet dream. She strolled the halls in her knee-highs and her skirt, always looking classy and well put-together. She didn't need to trash herself to get attention, which I respected. No, she used charm, wit, and a killer smile. Every boy was putty in her hands, including yours truly. She became my best friend after the dance. We were inseparable, and the reason I ended up going to Yale.

She was deadly, however, never doubt that for even a moment. No one ever tried taking advantage of her, and if they did, well that was their first mistake. She could defend herself, and had no problems flaunting it when someone did something she did not care for. The first time I saw her deck an overzealous football player was when I decided that I'd love her forever.

Of course, I'd only gone to Chilton for a year. My Aunt Sophia was the only one that was disappointed in me. Her husband didn't care – I wasn't the precious DuGrey heir, so why give a shit about me? It was my Aunt that suggested that I got to Andover. I liked my Aunt. She was the youngest on my mum's side, being only twenty-two when she was wooed and subsequently married to a thirty year old DuGrey. They moved to America and had a bratty American kid. So it wasn't like I was exactly heartbroken at going to a boarding school, but I missed seeing Tristan getting shipped off to military school. That would've been a good day.

After that, I had tried to forget Chilton. I didn't forget the people (well, I didn't forget three of them), but I forgot the place and what I did and learned. I did, however, remember Stephanie's fucking amazing blowjobs and Louise's penchant for being on top. Good times, good times. Very good times indeed.

So imagine my surprise when, almost four years later, Logan, Colin, and I ran into Moderately Cute Granddaughter. I almost didn't recognize her. Hell, it took me a few times to finally figure out why that name kept popping into my head. She didn't remember me. Her hair was cut, and she was transformed from Moderately Cute Granddaughter to Cute Granddaughter. She wasn't a virgin anymore, either. Don't ask how I knew, I just had special talent for knowing these things.

So Logan fell fast for her, and I honestly couldn't remember her name. If there was a gun pointed to my head, I'd be shot dead in an instant. To me, she was – and always would be – (Moderately) Cute Granddaughter. She was different, though. What she lacked in the spunk she'd once had, she made up for in an ability to hold her liquor, obscure pop culture references, and a prudishness when it came to all things concerning Logan. It was both endearing and annoying.

After four years and countless drinks later, I still couldn't forget Chilton. Stephanie was my best friend, (Moderately) Cute Granddaughter was dating Logan, and those halls haunted my drunken stupor-caused dreams.


End file.
